Woke from Dreaming
by Hitsuiro Issa
Summary: SPOILER CHAPTER 180-181 And this is what happens, when the dream ends. Slight hint of douwata, more of angsty than relevant. Hmph. Please, do review. XD


**[Woke from dreaming]**

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**xxxholic . douwata . spoiler [chapter 180-181] . **

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Reality was, and would remain- in the end of everything and in the brink of insanity- as it was, the cruel reality that would hold everyone- hold the two of them- together. It was the kind of humdrum that roused multiple beings from their illusionary prerogatives and brought them to the sanctity of fate, which in truth was an ending neither one of them was ready to be put into. But he could hear them, and not less sense that- in the sanctuary of doubt and denial and beyond, the gears of fate were rolling, stripping him of everything he'd ever dreamt of, painting the store in the center of dimensions a deep ornate black and pulling free from his hand another's own.

Though the second took them long enough. Slowly. Painfully.

-

_Woke from dreaming_

_and it was too convincing_

_shaking, screaming_

_but still alive and breathing-- _

-

It was obvious that the end was drawing near.

Perhaps not the end of the whole of humanity, no- humans were always so self-centered and uncaring, and it was only expected to have the whole lot of them- the whole lot who never cared, who never bothered to look- kept out in a safe monotoned existence, a humble white and a hint of black, they who only had their voices known when it was necessary for them to hear. They would not even know what happened because none had ever bothered to believe, much less see, the eclectic shop hidden in the empty lot, where Watanuki often stood, cleaning.

But now there wasn't much to see, and there wasn't much to recall, either- well, perhaps besides he and Doumeki and even Kunogi, but the rest of the world- the petty customers who paid dearly and never remembered- would never have cast a secondary glance at an empty lot, where the two of them stood before now.

"She's gone," says Watanuki, the thinner and paler of the two, with those beautiful matching blue and yellow eyes a person would ever see on another human being; he is sweating and panting a little, from the effort of running all the way from his first and recent customer, and from the surprising downturn of reality and truth that he had just experienced once he had entered the shop a few moments before; and he is shaking his head at the absurdity- in all honesty and despair- that the witch he had worked for was erased, in an eye blink, from existence, along with her two soulless companions and the black manjuu, their short-term extension of life immediately draining out without any other explanation, and Watanuki is too shocked- and too grieved- to properly comprehend.

The other says nothing, but there had always been a lack of his in words; Doumeki stands a safe distance from the dark abyss of the shop (although he cannot see), but a close protective length from his ward, and grunts a reply of either disagreement or otherwise, the seer can't tell.

What he does know, however, that Doumeki is aware of the state he is in, and the state of the disappearing call of the Dimensional shop of all sorts- and although Watanuki is one who rants and complains at every single reply Doumeki denies him of, and even the one-word sentences given otherwise, the seer does not flinch this time as Doumeki lets out a statement- a challenge, maybe- that rested solely on his decision.

"What are you going to do now?"

Watanuki then turns to his companion, a look of confusion and desperation in those beguilingly exotic eyes.

"I don't know."

-

_Petty strangers linger by the roadway_

_little by little _

_let the danger pass _

_and you can--_

-

It sometimes took Watanuki an incredibly long time- a millennia or two, perhaps- to understand and accept fully the value of a person to him, and it took that person a whole lot of patience and understanding to get the whole 'I-care-for-you' thing into his head, too. But be it a year, a century, or even a millennium for Watanuki to understand- it is always worth it, because Doumeki has never felt so at home before.

So now, as he stands behind Watanuki and watches the small lad fidget and worry over Yuuko and her minions, the bond between them is strengthened and prolonged, if ever possible.

Will it hold?

"Watanuki." He says calmly, as he would in lesser important circumstances; Doumeki had never ceased calling Watanuki by his last name without any honorific, and it wouldn't have bothered him either if he started calling the seer by his first name too, but Watanuki wasn't really ready for that kind of relationship, or embarrassment, anyway.

Watanuki doesn't seem to notice, still too busy with mumbling things like "This can't be happening..." or "We've got to do something" (and see he uses 'we' now, and Doumeki almost smiles), and so Doumeki takes another step forward and grabs both of the smaller boy's shoulders and shakes him, gently. "Shut up," he would've said, but those big dual-colored eyes were too agonized to annoy, and it broke his heart. Partially.

"Yuuko-san. She's- she and everybody- gone!" Watanuki wails in his arms (and there is something in his eyes, like a hidden truth he's hiding from Doumeki, but will be said, in time), and slowly- gingerly- Doumeki brings his hand to Watanuki's brow, wipes away a lone sweat drop and a strand of ebony hair away, and Watanuki says nothing, just stops. He's surprised.

Then, after a while of choosing between rights and wrongs and contemplating if it really was a safe thing to do, he pulls the smaller lad into an embrace, and he smiles.

Watanuki doesn't push; he thought he wouldn't, after all.

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_--do what you do _

_if you think you can take it_

_you can do what you do_

_and find a way out alive_

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And so,

He takes Watanuki by the hand and pulls him to the family shrine, clothes him in a calming blue yukata and watches- patiently- as Watanuki wraps a pure white sash around his frail waist, casts a tentative look at the archer, and sits on the wooden floor. Doumeki then undresses himself and changes into a loose brown yukata himself, a lot bigger and bolder than that of Watanuki's (and it reflects the real world too, shyly), and Watanuki looks away as he dresses.

"Why are we here." Is what he says, not asks; it is obvious that the smaller teen is emotionally shocked from earlier's revelation, and all sorts of reactions- be it destructive or otherwise- is put on hold.

"There is something you must tell me," is Doumeki's nonchalant reply, and if Watanuki still had the strength to snap at the lack of emotion in his friend's voice, he would have, anyway.

And there are so many things he would have and wouldn't have done, and one being that he could have stopped the tears from flowing, on any other different day. Today must have been destined to have himself emotionally break down before a person he had long considered an enemy, and perhaps Hitsuzen was laughing at him now, besides cruelly taking Yuuko from him, and he damns it to hell as the tears continued spilling from his eyes, and he doesn't know how to stop, and he doesn't know if he could ever look Doumeki in the eye again, after this embarrassment.

But Doumeki doesn't laugh, unlike Hitsuzen is doing; calmly he takes Watanuki into his arms and slowly strokes the smaller lad's back, and it calms the seer a bit, because what Doumeki lacks in verbal interaction he makes up with his solemn and gentle treatment, and somehow deep inside Watanuki knows it could only have been for him. He sighs into the familiar scent of Temple clothing, Doumeki's scent particularly, and does not force himself to cease crying and lets it all out.

-

_silver lights start to _

_blind my eyes and _

_you'd have scandalized me_

_take my soul before you leave now;_

-

If there was ever anything that hitsuzen was, it would have been cruel, because cruelty was the way of the world; it never had any moment to stop and reconsider before stripping away another one's love, after all, who had given so much as to wish for it all to end, for her to open her eyes once more; it was brief, that existence was, so meaningless and brief, because a life in exchange is another one's life, after all. It was equal payment, and as he himself had said, the dream must come to an end.

And she said it would, because there wasn't anything else to it; all she needed was time to leave behind a successor, a person she could trust her greatest secret to- a person who was destined, and who would have the same fate as she. Perhaps the last bit was vague, though, because Hitsuzen was playing at her own game, and disallowed the dimensional witch herself to even have any further say about it, and all she could do was smile at the sincerity in Watanuki's voice as he told her what she'd dread he'd say, and hoped to hear from him.

And so she closes her eyes and wishes silently to have him say the words another had uttered, so many years ago.

-

_my heart is getting heavy_

_and my hands are weak now_

_hatred lifting _

_and you start to weep now you can--_

-

Hitsuzen was also what any normal, unsuspecting person would call a trick of light; after all, coincidence was just an illusion of the world, and though Doumeki was never one to drown himself in the illusion of a possibility, he could have sworn that hitsuzen right now was playing tricks on his eyes, having Watanuki's form in his arms appear transparent for a second, somehow.

Also, his hold on the smaller lad was slipping, literally and symbolically speaking- Watanuki's form is as intangible as thought, almost spectral in its eeriness even, and he grunts and his brows link in an angry form as he seeks for a way to keep the young man with him at all costs.

Watanuki is slowly becoming aware of the present situation, and struggles in return- he opens his mouth and says something, but there is too much noise in the air (suddenly too; wasn't it quiet only a few seconds earlier?) and he doesn't quite catch what Watanuki is telling him, much less was he able to hold onto the seer, and in his heart he could hear the end echoing like mourning bells in the thundering rain, and he screams, hell no, or something. Watanuki's hands start to move again, scratching his arms and somehow digging into the skin, although his sleeves remain whole, and Doumeki finds a way to hold on for just a while longer, then loses the hold a second after.

And without knowing as to how or why he was lying on his back, waking up from a stressful and disturbing dream, he wonders idly whose blue yukata it was thrown messily on the floor, and why the hell there were tears running down his cheeks besides sweat.

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_--do what you do _

_if you think you can take it _

_you can do what you do_

_without fear of loss and strife_

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The same dark bonds he had seen clasped around Yuuko were in turn around him now, and the more he struggles, the more it tightens; although this time there was no darkness, but rather an array of different images, a swirl of a thousand colors, mixing and merging- and barely he recognizes a few as distinct memories of his past, of the days he was before Yuuko, the days under her care, and the days that seemed to be after. His blue and yellow eyes, forever stuck in such a cryptic bond, widen in surprise and dread, and the dimensions close around him tightly before receding into the darkness.

He finds himself as he was years ago, the day his parents died: alone and in despair.

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_because just in a moment you can take away a life_

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Doumeki's life starts to gain a momentum of tediousness as the days go by; everything done almost seemed to be done in vain, as if nothing was going right, despite the normality his world had taken a turn in. He could vaguely remember a person always with him, a slender pale figure with tantalizing dual-colored eyes; one a color of charming cerulean hue, the other like his. Whenever he tried to recall, a sharp pain pierces his heart, and an unexplainable amount of grief floods him, enough to bring tears to his eyes, enough to make him sob quietly, even.

And so, as the days roll by, he deteriorates, slowly, but surely.

There is an empty hole in his life.

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_and you'll try to find a reason and the will to live_

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He stumbles upon a weird-looking house, one day.

It is mysterious as it is beautiful, a bold color of red and a roof of green, with oriental antiquity as its design and league.

There is a sharp, almost familiar scent in the air, a beguiling upturn of winds, perhaps; slowly he lets his feet carry him to the front door, and he is greeted by two children smiling fondly at him and gesturing him to come in.

He does so, too, without hesitation nor doubt; there is something within the place his heart longs for, and he has deprived himself of such a need for too long, now; he walks down the eerily decorated halls and stops, without a sound, a pair of sliding doors the children earlier brought back with an excited grin upon their faces.

The man he sees is a vision of elegance before him, and he is surprised, because his golden eyes meet a pair he had only dreamt of seeing.

The man is pale, slender; his small frame is wrapped by multiple sheets of kimonos of bright, haunting colors, decorated with swallows that seemed incredibly real, and his beautiful pair of exotic-colored eyes is hidden behind crystal lenses of black rims.

The man looks surprised at his arrival, but not as if he wasn't expecting him; it was more of surprise a host would make when his guests arrive early, that is all. There is a heavy amount of mystery and beguile surrounding the man, as strong as the aura of familiarity and home, and Doumeki widens his eyes a bit as the man before him recovers from his earlier shock, and flashes him the most familiar, the loveliest smile.

"I've been waiting for you," Watanuki Kimihiro says.

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_and before it consumes you--_

_--you consume yourself._

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**[owari.]**

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End file.
